


Like The Flame Before My Eyes (I Wanna Be Red)

by stereoslash



Category: Produce 101 (TV), UNIQ (Band), UP10TION, X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, let's turn that into a tag, no beta we die like men, seungseok gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 19:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20376889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereoslash/pseuds/stereoslash
Summary: Cho Seungyoun is entirely too weak for Kim Wooseok.





	Like The Flame Before My Eyes (I Wanna Be Red)

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works since the goddamn bus vlive and I finally managed to finish it. Will edit out errors as I spot them, but for now it's past 1AM and I'm too damn lazy to beta my own work. Seungseok are still cowards but what's new, so here's a fic to feed us all for the time being. Title taken from "RED" by The Rose.

Group practices always run a little later than any of them would prefer, only coming to a close once they’re well into the night and exhaustion has started creeping into their bones, but it’s an ache that Seungyoun welcomes readily — an ache that’s characteristic of a job well done, of time well spent, of a dreamless sleep once his weary form finally meets the bed (and they would all be able to get back to the dorms a lot sooner, Seungyoun thinks, if Seungwoo stops insisting that they all take a shower before packing up to leave — but he supposes that _ someone _ has to make sure that the kids don’t end up dozing off whilst clad in their sweat-stained clothes). He would laugh at the way the entire group is just shuffling along, all too reminiscent of the zombies they had watched for movie night just a few nights prior, but the tired set of everyone’s features bids him to keep his mouth shut — his too-loud laughter blessedly contained for the time being as they file out of the company building and into the bus that awaits them outside.

They can’t pile onto the vehicle quickly enough, with the younger members scrambling to be first; surging forward with a newfound energy brought about by the prospect of finally getting back to the dorms — and Seungyoun could almost _ hear _ their relieved little sighs once they’re welcomed by the cold air, a suspicion that is quickly confirmed as he follows behind them. Wooseok’s already in his seat when Seungyoun sees him, and Seungyoun can’t even find it in himself to protest, all too accustomed to the way the younger male opts for the window seat after long practices such as this; and so he settles into the other seat wordlessly, lips quirking upward at the pleased little noise that his concession is met with — but apparently it’s not quite enough, because all it takes is a few seconds for Wooseok to tug insistently at the sleeve of Seungyoun’s hoodie, a silent bid to have the older male relinquish it to him.

“Let me get this straight,” Seungyoun begins, turning to the male beside him with a questioning brow, “you robbed me of my seat, and now you want to rob me of this too?”

“Listen, I left mine in my locker, so you’re bound by natural law to give me yours. You know I get cold.” Wooseok replies simply, his tone painfully casual and alerting Seungyoun that there might be something else at play, but Seungyoun elects not to dwell on it — instead yielding the garment to the other in favor of putting a cap on the younger male’s demands for the night.

It’s a tried and tested protocol — give Wooseok one thing and he’ll be out of your hair for a minute; give Wooseok everything and he’ll be out of your hair for an hour (it’s a proverb that came from Seungyoun’s brilliant mind alone, thank you very much, and so it goes without saying that it most definitely is _ not _ a rip-off of that age-old adage about teaching a man to fish). Really the only reason behind Seungyoun giving in to the other’s demands far too quickly is the fact that it’s much, much easier to agree with Wooseok than to argue, and this is the rationalization which Seungyoun draws comfort from despite being fully aware that the reality of the situation is a hell of a lot simpler — because everyone knows all too well that Seungyoun is entirely too _weak _ for the other man.

It doesn’t take too long for the members’ idle chatter to die down, the day’s exhaustion catching up to them once more; prompting them to doze in their seats — and pretty soon all Seungyoun can hear is the low hum of the engine and the muffled noises of city traffic coming from outside the bus windows. Seungyoun debates getting a bit of shuteye himself, but he finds that he’s a lot more alert than he thought he’d be; and he’s reaching into his pocket for his phone when a weight on his shoulder draws his movements to a stop. Wooseok’s eyes have slipped shut by the time Seungyoun hazards a glance at him, the younger male soon nuzzling close enough to bury his face into the crook of the elder’s neck; and Seungyoun does his best to keep still, unwilling to jostle the other into wakefulness despite wanting to reach out and _ touch_.

Wooseok looks all too inviting, Seungyoun thinks, delicate features bathed in the vehicle’s soft overhead light; his lithe frame all but swaddled in the jacket he’d filched from Seungyoun’s grasp. It’s all Seungyoun could do to keep his gaze locked firmly ahead of him, palms laid flat atop his own thighs; and he could fall asleep like this, Seungyoun thinks, with Wooseok’s warmth resting against his side — but Wooseok draws even closer then, lips parted when they press against Seungyoun’s skin, and Seungyoun _ halts_.

It occurs to him then (a little too slowly, a little too _ late_) that the male seated beside him hadn’t been sleeping at all, and the way Wooseok’s mouthing against his skin — hot breath fanning across the column of Seungyoun’s neck — further reaffirms that fact. Seungyoun’s mere seconds away from shaking Wooseok off, all too poised to bid the younger male to stop, when delicate fingers wind around Seungyoun’s wrist; soon guiding the elder’s hand to his groin and canting deliberately against Seungyoun’s palm, the length of him pressing against Seungyoun’s hold through the material of Wooseok’s sweats — and that’s when the rest of the puzzle pieces finally click.

Seungyoun’s gaze travels around the silent bus, takes in the sight of the other members while they’re sound asleep; spares a glance at the jacket that was all too _ conveniently _ placed over the other’s lap — effectively shielding whatever they might be doing from view. Seungyoun attempts to tug his hand from Wooseok’s once more, but the younger male only grips tighter to keep it in place; lips parted in what seems to be half a hiss, half a whimper — the sound muffled against Seungyoun’s skin.

“Are you seriously — ” Seungyoun begins, voice hushed and tone incredulous; but no sooner had the words left his mouth did Wooseok’s hips press up against his palm once more, and the rest of the query dies in Seungyoun’s throat.

“Need it.” comes the younger’s reply, his plea all too soft in the space between them. “Need you. Been thinking about it all day. Please, hyung. Need you to touch me.” Wooseok adds, and Seungyoun would curse the other for being far too familiar with the chinks in his armor, readily letting them slip through plump lips in a single breath — but he knows all too well that Wooseok isn’t _ entirely _ at fault; because truth be told, Seungyoun hasn’t stood a chance from the moment he met the other man.

The reality of the situation — of the vaguest semblance of Seungyoun’s self-control floundering, of Wooseok having Seungyoun wrapped around one delicate, delicate little finger — prompts Seungyoun to grip the younger male more firmly through the fabric, the hitch in Wooseok’s breathing serving as a response; and Seungyoun reminds the other to keep his voice from pitching too loud, too high, ever so mindful of the fact that they aren’t alone. Wooseok is all too eager when he agrees, and that same enthusiasm is evident from the way his mouth wraps around Seungyoun’s digits, tongue laving until they’re slick with spit — Seungyoun holding the younger’s gaze all the while.

It’s not long before both sets of fabric are bunched around Wooseok’s knees, with Seungyoun taking note of the tremors in Wooseok’s hands as the latter draws the fabric downwards; and the pilfered hoodie is soon discarded to one side — Seungyoun’s eyes roaming over soft, pale skin. Wooseok’s shifting in his seat, cheeks beginning to flush at the attention; and he buries his face against Seungyoun’s neck once more — hips canting upwards against nothing in tandem with a whispered plea for Seungyoun to _ touch_.

“Impatient,” is what Seungyoun says, but he wraps spit-slick digits around Wooseok’s length all the same; reveling in the breathless little sigh that the contact is met with. They’ve gotten too good at this, Seungyoun thinks, at pressing each other’s buttons and figuring out what exactly makes the other _ tick_; and he takes full advantage of it now, strokes languid and drawn-out as he thumbs at the head of Wooseok’s cock — and Wooseok’s _ restless; _ his delicate hands roving fruitlessly as they try to find their grip, ultimately settling to brace one hand against the seat while the other moves to clutch at a seam on the elder’s jeans.

Wooseok looks breathtaking like this, Seungyoun thinks, eyes squeezed shut and petal pink lips parted in a breathless moan; head thrown back and exposing the line of his throat — and Seungyoun’s mouth finds its way underneath the younger’s jaw, nipping lightly where his teeth are latched; careful not to leave a bruise despite wanting nothing more than to watch the color bloom against Wooseok’s pale, pale skin. He’s gripping tighter around the younger’s cock, a wordless call for attention; but Wooseok lets out a surprised little keen at the pressure — Seungyoun quickly pressing forward to drown the sound out against his mouth. The kiss is brief, just a tad too chaste, but Wooseok looks satisfied when they part all the same — lips still parted just the slightest bit as eyes fixate on the set of Seungyoun’s mouth.

“You promised to keep quiet.” Seungyoun reminds the other, thumb and index finger forming a ring around the head of Wooseok’s cock on the upstroke; halting momentarily as if to ensure that the younger male would have little choice but to focus on his words. “I think you’ve forgotten that we aren’t alone. If you watched yourself instead of keeping those eyes shut tight, then maybe you wouldn’t be so loud.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way.” the words are falling one after the other in a tangled heap, with Wooseok somehow managing to huff out a laugh in the midst of it, but he complies all the same — and Seungyoun finds his own lips curling upwards at the breathless whimper that follows; Wooseok’s cock twitching in Seungyoun’s hold as the younger’s eyes take in the sight of the hand wrapped around him.

Wooseok seems to grow a little more frantic then, and Seungyoun takes the hint; ministrations resuming in a pace that has the younger male gasping, Wooseok fucking into his grip with every stroke. Seungyoun watches too-slim thighs grow taut with effort as Wooseok chases his peak, and all it takes is a few beats — Seungyoun thumbing at the other’s slit — for Wooseok to grow still, stifling a moan against Seungyoun’s shoulder as he spills. Seungyoun strokes him through it, watches the younger male ride it out; only stopping once Wooseok slumps bonelessly against his much larger frame.

Seungyoun lifts his hand to the younger’s lips, and Wooseok’s all too poised to lave at the digits once more when the bus slows down to a halt outside of their dorms; and Wooseok _ panics_, swiftly drawing his pants back up and wiping at Seungyoun’s hand using the hoodie — and Seungyoun would laugh at the speed with which Wooseok got everything done, but he recalls the tightness in his jeans at the exact same moment that Wooseok does; and the younger male presses an apologetic smile against his lips in tandem with a whispered “later”.

Wooseok rouses the other members slowly, and Seungyoun wills himself to calm down; blessedly succeeding by the time that their group has started to file out. Seungyoun tries for nonchalance as he walks with the rest of them, but Wooseok doesn’t even bother — sprinting on ahead with Seungyoun’s hoodie clasped firmly in his grasp as he prattles about having to do laundry — and Seungyoun finds himself grinning as his gaze follows after the younger male.

The group steps inside the dorms without their usual ruckus, the too-short nap only serving to make them a lot more groggy than they had been initially; and the bulk of the members head into their rooms for the night — but Seungyoun lingers, helping Seungwoo put the living room to rights and cleaning up whatever mess the members had neglected to get rid of before heading out for the day’s practice. It only takes a few minutes for Seungwoo to bid him goodnight, Seungyoun echoing the other’s words; and he’s making his way to the laundry room once the leader is well out of sight.

This is where Seungyoun finds Wooseok, thin arms crossed over a small chest as he watches the spin cycle, and Seungyoun mirrors the other’s position — own arms crossed as he leans against the doorframe, an easy smile soon spreading across his lips.

“Does this qualify as ‘later’?” he asks in lieu of making his presence known, his grin complementing the playful lilt in his tone.

“Let’s see,” Wooseok begins, ever so keen to play along; lifting his wrist as if to consult a nonexistent wristwatch, “it’s been about — ten, fifteen minutes? I suppose it’ll do.”

Seungyoun draws himself from the doorframe then, straightening up as Wooseok steps into his space; hands tangling in soft strands and pushing downwards ever so slightly in a silent command — and Wooseok follows, clothed knees meeting the cold tile as wide eyes look up at the other.

“Good.” Seungyoun remarks, hand gripping tighter around Wooseok’s hair just so; content with the soft noise the added pressure is met with. “Was wondering if you’d keep me waiting.”

Wooseok’s mouth begins to curl upwards then (a little too cunning, a little too _ dangerous_), and this, Seungyoun thinks, is the face of a man who’s too damn _ used _ to getting what he wants; elegant features doing little to mask the sheer _ power _ that Wooseok emanates — power that is too easily used on the older man. And yet Seungyoun can’t find it in him to protest, not when Wooseok’s eyes grow wider just the way he likes; not when delicate fingers begin to unclasp the fastenings in Seungyoun’s jeans — and certainly not when Wooseok’s chin tilts upwards to smile at him, the response serving as nothing more than a prelude to the way plump lips would soon wrap around his cock.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Seungseok gay. Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/seungseokhq) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/woodz_).


End file.
